Harry sat bolt upright panting. The lightning scar on his forehead was sweltering in pain. He ran his finger over it and came back with blood.
"Damn." He whispered. He reached over to his bedside table and grabbed his glasses. He put them on and slipped out of bed. He went to his wardrobe and opened the door to reveal a mirror. He examined his scar further. It looked normal, except for the blood of course.
His bright green eyes were tired and confused. His raven hair was ruffled with sleep. His pajamas were hanging off of him. They were Dudley's old pajamas. And considering Dudley was twice Harry's size, anything Harry inherited from him was always huge and hanging off of him.
Harry was a pretty average boy. Other then that he was a sixteen, soon to be seventeen, year old wizard. He attended, or had attended, Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. In his sixth year, about two weeks ago, a professor murdered the headmaster of the school. Severus Snape. A professor who had been a supporter of the dark lord. Everyone believed him to be innocent. Out of the blue he killed the headmaster. Professor Dumbledore. Harry had become very close to Dumbledore in the past few years. His death devastated Harry, along with millions of others.
Harry started pacing. His scar still burning. He glanced at his clock. It read 3:00 am. He hadn't had dreams about Voldemort for about a year. Which confused him. Why would he be having dreams now? He thought they were gone. This bothered him.
He sat on his bed and tried to recall what had happened in the dream. He remembered torture. And lots of it. But who was Voldemort torturing? Who was the blonde boy being beaten to death?
Before Harry could muster up any more questions, there was a loud crack from outside. He raced to the window to see what had happened.
In the middle of Privet drive laid the blonde boy Harry had seen in his dream. The boy looked as though he was trying to crawl away from something, or to something.
Harry didn't know what to do. He put his head to his wall to listen for any movements from the Dursley's. Nothing.
He ran back to the window. The boy had stopped moving. Harry quietly grabbed a pair of sneakers from his wardrobe and a sweater. He slipped on the shoes and quietly made his way out the door. He stopped short. He turned back and snatched his wand from his desk and headed for the door. He pulled his sweater over his head before he left the Dursley house.
Once outside he raced to the boy. As he got closer he realized the boy wasn't really a boy at all. It was Malfoy. Harry stopped short. Draco Malfoy was lying unconscious in the middle of Privet drive at three o'clock in the morning.
Voldemort was torturing Malfoy? Harry didn't know what to do. Should he help Malfoy who for years had bothered him about the most ridiculous things?
Malfoy wasn't moving. Harry could barely even tell if he was breathing. Harry knew he had to help him. It was the right thing to do. Plus it wouldn't be so bad to have Malfoy owe him.
Harry knelt down next to Malfoy and attempted to lift him up. He failed. Malfoy was too heavy, not to mention he was about half of a foot taller than Harry. Harry fell to the pavement with a grunt.
Malfoy stirred.
Well at least he's alive. Harry thought. He used all his effort to lift Malfoy from the ground. Malfoy groaned and his head fell forwards onto his chest. He stared at Malfoy for a moment. Malfoy's face was bruised and his clothes were torn. There was dried blood in his hair and on his robes.
"What did they do to him?" Harry muttered. He had never been in a situation like this before. What was he to do? He had an unconscious enemy lying in the middle of the street. It was because of him that Dumbledore was dead. He let the death eaters into the castle.
Harry thought about writing a letter to someone. But who? Harry thought. The ministry? No. I do have a death eater by my house. But the ministry would make a big deal out of it though and bring in aurors. Hermione? Yeah right. She'd probably just tell me to call the ministry. Ron? That's laughable. Hey, Ron, Malfoy's at the Dursley's right now! No more Sirius or Dumbledore to tell. I could just bring him to Grimald Place. That's not a bad idea.
Harry pocketed his wand and wrapped his hands around Malfoy's wrists. He pictured number 12 Grimald Place in his mind. Then the familiar sensation of being sucked though a tube came over him. Before he knew it there was a loud crack and he was standing in front of number 12 Grimald Place.
He lugged Malfoy to the door and muttered a password. Before he knew it the door swung open and Mr. Weasley was stood before him in night robes.
"Harry my boy." He said. "What on earth are you doing here at this hour?"
"I'm sorry Mr. Weasley. I didn't know you were going to be here. I don't know how it happened, but Malfoy just turned up out side my house. I didn't know what to do so I just figured I'd come here." Harry said.
"My goodness. What happened to him?"
"I-I don't know. He just apparated into the middle of the street. I think Volde-. Sorry. I think You-Know-Who did it to him."
"What would give you that idea Harry?"
"Well you see. Just before he apparated. I was having a dream."
"Oh. I see. Well come in quickly. Molly will clean him up." Mr. Weasley gave Harry a sad smile. "Let me help you with him."
Mr. Weasley put his arm under Malfoy's left arm, leaving Harry in charge of the right arm. Together they lugged Malfoy into the main room and dropped him onto a couch. Malfoy groaned.
Harry hated this place. It reminded him of Sirius. Sirius had left him the house and all the positions in it as well as Buckbeak.
Buckbeak was the hippogriff Sirius used to escape on when Harry was in his third year.
"I'll go get Molly." Mr. Weasley said. He turned and headed for the stairs.
"Thank you Mr. Weasley." Harry said. Mr. Weasley stopped short.
He smiled and said. "Your welcome Harry."
Harry returned the smile. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes though. He looked back at Malfoy who seemed to be stirring.
Just then Molly Weasley and two of the seven Weasley children plus Hermione came down the stairs. Ron and Ginny.
Molly and Ginny went over to Malfoy immedietly. They had some bandages and wands to fix him up.
Hermione beamed with delight and took Harry in an embrace.
"Oh Harry it's so good to see you." Hermione said. "How've you been?"
"Loosing sleep actually and yourself?" Harry said.
"I'm good." Hermione said.
"Hey Harry." Ron said with sleep still in his eyes. "So what are you doing here anyway? I thought you hated this place."
"Well look on the couch." Harry said.
Hermione and Ron both turned to look at the couch and it's contents.
"What the bloody hell is he doing here?" Ron yelled.
"Ron, keep it down." Harry said. "I found him. He was lying in the middle of Privet drive. What was I supposed to do? Leave him there to die?"
"Yeah." Ron argued.
"Ronald." Hermione said. "Admit it. You would help him too."
"No I wouldn't."
"Yes. Yes you would."
Ron scowled. Hermione frowned.
"You two are being so ridiculous." Harry said.
"Harry you're the one being ridiculous. Bringing Malfoy. Here! Harry this is Grimald place! What were you thinking?" Hermione said.
Harry sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking. I had to help him."
"But here, Harry?" Hermione said. "Couldn't you have taken him to St. Mungo's or something? It's dangerous bringing him here. Someone could have followed you here. You don't know how he got there."
"There's something else." Harry said. "Before I found him I had a dream. Voldemort was torturing him. He almost died. I think I saw it happen. He was the one that was supposed to kill Dumbledore. He couldn't do it. That's why Snape did it. He did it to save Malfoy."
"Are you sure?" Ron said.
"Ron, look at him. You think I made this up." Harry said.
Hermione and Ron looked at each other. Harry could see concern on both of their faces. They were scared for him.
"Look I have to get back to the Dursley's before they wake up. See you guys late." Harry said. He shook his head and headed for the door. He stopped in front of it. He turned back. "It was good to see you guys though. Bye."
He left. He closed his eyes and once outside again the familiar sensation of being sucked though a tube came upon him. When he opened his eyes he was standing in front of the Dursley's home.
He sighed and entered the house. He crept up the stairs and back up to his room. He whipped off his sweater and lay back down in his bed. He stared at the ceiling for a while. Eventually his vision started bluring, even with his glasses. He took them off and laid them on his desk. Before he knew it he was asleep.